Chapter 15

Kenshin walked between the trees, his eyes on the road in front of him. The breeze had died and the night had grown colder; dew was starting to form on the stiff brown tufts of grass on either side of the road.

He could see the bluff now, about half a mile ahead, where a finger of pines and cedars ran down from the higher ground off to the left, a distinctive dark swath among the silvery branches of the otherwise leafless forest. A pale ribbon of smoke rose from behind it, just visible in the moonlight. The road in front of him ran gently downhill then made a sharp jag to the right at the base of the bluff before disappearing among the trees.

He'd expected the walk to take him an hour and a half, two at the most. Instead it had taken him more than three even to get this far. It must be past midnight by now; the almost-full moon had reached its zenith more than an hour ago.

He'd kept having to stop and rest. The rice balls had helped, but the truth was he was exhausted. He hoped he would have another chance to rest, preferably even get a little sleep, before he had to fight again. At least the cut over his ribs wasn't bothering him too much. Eri really had done a good job.

He sighed. Eri. He hoped he hadn't annoyed her too much. He shouldn't have lost it like that, even tired as he was. He knew about the samurai code of honor, and considered it dead wrong. But the way she'd said it so blithely had hit a nerve. It was something he cared deeply about. Something he'd given a lot of thought.

And there was something else about Eri that was bothering him. Something had changed in her. The first time he'd seen her, that morning in Hideki's warehouse, she had been happily enthusing over fabrics. She'd seemed so carefree. Tonight, though, there had been something much harder in her eyes. Not just the anxiety over her husband that he would have expected, but a sort of grim determination. And she'd been carrying a knife in her sleeve. As a samurai woman, she would have been taught how to use it.

Maybe he shouldn't go back. He'd caused enough problems for the Yukawas already, and, to tell the truth, he was a little bit afraid of facing Eri again. Maybe it was time to go wandering again. Maybe. He certainly didn't want to go back eastward across the mountains, not until winter was well over. But he could go south along the coast; that wouldn't be too bad this time of year. Cut through the woods and then pick up the coast road south of town. Yes, it would work, if he could send Shinichiro back home on his own. Akane would probably worry about him, though. He'd feel bad not saying goodbye, after all she'd done for him. He'd have to be sure to send her a message through Shinichiro that he'd be all right.

Kenshin stopped and looked up, studying the slope in front of him. He'd reached the point where the road bent around to the right. The bluff wasn't too steep on this side. Good; he'd be able to scramble up without making a sound. Better to climb over and try to find a good vantage point to watch their camp from above, rather than coming around on the road where they'd be more likely to see him. He scanned the hillside for a good route to the top. With the bright moon there was plenty of light among the leafless trees, but here the denser canopy of evergreens cast the hillside into shadow, making it much harder to see.

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye made Kenshin jump and turn sharply to the right, gripping his sword. He stared hard for a long moment down the darkened road where it ran onward into the tunnel of pines. Nothing. His eyes were starting to play tricks on him. He rubbed at them sleepily. Climb first, then rest, he thought. Okay. He adjusted his sword to a better angle and started up the hillside, silent on toes and fingers.

o-o-o

A knock at the door startled Eri out of her meditation. Could it be-- already--? She scrambled up from in front of the small household shrine and ran across the room. She yanked the door open and then stopped.

"Akane?!"

"Whoa, Eri, are you all right? What's the matter?" Akane had startled, stepping back a pace and bumping into Hideki, who was hovering behind her.

"I-- I'm all right." Eri squared her shoulders, composing herself quickly. "Come in, come in." It was very late; Eri was surprised to see the Tobes still up. Akane would have closed up her restaurant hours ago. "Please, have a seat. I'll make some tea." She beckoned them in then started toward the kitchen.

"No no, don't bother, we can't stay for long," said Akane. "We're looking for Kenshin. He hasn't come back."

Eri stopped. "Oh." She turned back to face her friend. Her best friend. She hesitated. There was a gap between them, suddenly, one that hadn't been there before. How much would she have to tell Akane? She didn't want to talk about this, not now, not yet. Not with her.

"When did you see him last? Did he seem okay?"

Oh no... She couldn't tell Akane about Shinichiro. "Y- yes," she stalled, trying to think of something she could say that wasn't totally untrue. "Yes, he was here just a few hours ago..."

"You know he's been ill, right?"

In truth, she'd forgotten about it, too distracted by her worry over Shinichiro. "Well, yes," she said, "I was there with Hideki at the warehouse when he collapsed, remember?" She glanced over at Hideki. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She'd been admiring those silks. Those beautiful, trivial silks... "But he's fine now, right? Just a cold or something."

Akane shook her head. She looked worried, distracted. She'd started pacing, a few steps back and forth each way on the tatami. "That fever nearly killed him." She glanced around the room, biting her thumbnail. "He was delirious for two days straight, then spent all of yesterday sleeping. This morning was his first time out of bed." She met Eri's eyes.

Everything seemed to go very still around Eri, and the room tilted a little. Kenshin hadn't said anything to her about that. She swallowed, suddenly convinced that she really had sent him to his death. She understood now how Shinichiro had been able to cut him. A few details slipped into place. Kenshin had seemed tired, even before the fight. She'd caught him spacing out more than once during the afternoon. It had seemed odd at the time. Something a swordsman just couldn't afford to do.

She was suddenly very conscious of the weight of the dagger in her sleeve. The cool, meditative calm from earlier that night sighed back over her, and she slowly relaxed. She could hope for the best, that Kenshin would bring Shinichiro back with his honor intact. But if Kenshin failed, the way ahead was still clear. Honor demanded it.

But Akane... Akane wasn't going to understand. Just like Kenshin hadn't understood. Akane wasn't samurai. Eri couldn't expect her to understand.

"I'm surprised he had any energy left at all by this evening," Akane was saying. "When you saw him last, did he say where he was going?"

Oh Akane, Eri should have said, I think I've done a terrible thing. But she didn't feel anything. It was like she was watching them from somewhere outside of herself, disconnected from her own emotions. Akane was her friend, wasn't she?

Tears prickled suddenly in the corners of her eyes, surprising her.

Akane was looking at her. "Eri?"

She nodded slightly. She'd have to tell them something.

"It's Shinichiro, isn't it." Hideki spoke for the first time, watching her, his eyes unusually keen. "Something's up. Tell us, Eri. Please, you have to tell us!"

All right. She'd tell them. If they thought badly of her, then so be it. Eri took a deep breath. "You'd better sit down," she said.

o-o-o

Kenshin crept forward as quietly as he could, crouched close to the ground, towards the ribbon of smoke rising from out of the clearing. After he'd crossed the ridge, the bluff had flattened out, running almost horizontally before dropping steeply away in front of him to the clearing a good fifteen feet below.

Perfect. Kenshin lay down flat on his stomach in the thick carpet of pine needles and slithered forward until he could just see the camp through the scrubby leafless bushes and tufts of grasses growing out of the exposed soil at the edge of the drop.

He could see why the samurai had chosen this spot. The clearing was sheltered from the west and north by the curve of the bluff, and a thick stand of cedars rose on the other side, completely blocking any view of the road. They'd built a campfire toward the north side of the clearing, dying down now to embers as the night wore on. Blankets were laid out near the fire. Kenshin could see three people sleeping. He looked around for the fourth, creeping forward a little more to get a better view of the near side of the clearing.

There, just outside the glow of the fire, on the side closest to him. Kenshin shaded his eyes from the firelight and let them adjust to the deeper shadows. It looked like Shinichiro. He was sitting on the ground on a blanket of his own, resting his forearms on his drawn-up knees and staring into the embers of the dying fire.

Kenshin's heart lifted. Shinichiro wasn't sleeping yet like the others were. He must be thinking about things. His posture spoke of serious doubts. Change your mind, Shinichiro, change your mind, Kenshin urged him mentally.

This might not be as hard as he'd feared. If Shinichiro was having second thoughts -- and he ought to be; one didn't just throw away everything and set out on a life of wandering without a very good reason -- then he might just go back home to Eri on his own, without Kenshin needing to intervene at all. Then he'd only have to worry about preventing the ambush. If he was extremely lucky, he wouldn't even have to fight, if he -- or Shinichiro even, that would be terrific -- could convince the samurai to call off their attack.

The bed of pine needles was soft and comfy. Kenshin let himself relax a little. It felt good to be lying down. He was really very tired. Since there was nothing much happening down below, he might as well nap for a while. He scooted backwards a couple of feet to be sure he wouldn't be visible from the clearing, and rested his face on his crossed forearms.

o-o-o

Shinichiro stared into the embers of the fire, his mind running around in circles.

He'd drawn his sword on Himura Battousai.

What in the world had he been thinking? Was he insane? He had spent the first part of the evening meditating, keying himself up, getting back into the mindframe of a samurai. He'd tied up his hair, dressed in his old fighting clothes, put on the swords. By the time he'd met Kenshin on the road, he was too intent on the night's mission to think rationally.

He felt like he'd survived a brush with death, that he was lucky to be alive. He couldn't help feeling that it was Kenshin who had won the fight, despite the fact that he hadn't touched Shinichiro once. Despite the fact that he hadn't even drawn his sword until the very end. Despite the fact that it was Shinichiro who had drawn blood.

His mind kept playing back what he'd seen this evening, comparing it to that fateful summer night in Kyoto. Kenshin had been moving very fast, easily dodging his strikes. Shinichiro certainly couldn't have moved like that himself. But it hadn't been the same as what he'd seen in Kyoto. What he'd seen in Kyoto had been close to supernatural, close enough that it had frozen him to the rooftop in terror.

And in the end, Kenshin hadn't been fast enough to avoid the blade of his sword. After he'd reached the camp Shinichiro had spent much longer than necessary cleaning Kenshin's blood off the steel. Could it be that his memory had exaggerated that night in Kyoto? Could it be that there hadn't been anything supernatural, anything impossible, about that night after all? Could it be that, for all their planning, the raid had been stopped by a mere human being, albeit an incredibly skilled and extremely lucky one?

And then there was Eri. 'What about Eri-dono,' indeed. He hadn't even told her what he was doing. He'd just assumed that he would swing by the house to pick her up after the night's adventure, and that she would come with him, leaving everything behind to ride off to Satsuma and an uncertain future. They'd done it once before. But the circumstances had been very different then. They'd had no choice.

This time there was a choice. But what a choice! The obvious choice was to stay at home, to not get involved, to keep living their calm and pleasant lives among their friends. But it wasn't so simple. This was bigger than both of them. The samurai uprising fomenting in Satsuma was the best chance to fix this country, to pull it back from the disastrous path down which the Meiji government was taking it. They'd stripped away the institutions that made this country Japan, replacing them with foreign-inspired garbage. They'd started opening the borders, letting foreign traders take advantage of them (although Tokugawa hadn't done much better there...). They'd even brought in foreigners to advise them on setting up a so-called army of the peasantry (this was supposed to defend them against those very same foreigners?). How could he NOT get involved, given a chance like this? If ever he'd had a duty to his country and to his emperor, it was now.

Shinichiro leaned back, arms propped behind him, and stared up into the starry sky.